Breaking Down
by Pithe
Summary: What difference did it make whether she fell or jumped' Collection of Oneshots.


**Rated T for attempted suicide and death. Please read and REVIEW! But make sure to read the note on the bottom after you read the story. Very important!**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from the movie is not mine. The Brooklyn Bridge is mine. I bought it for twenty bucks from a very nice man named Mr. Hahawowyourestupidicantbelieveyoureactuallyfallingforthis over the phone.**

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Turbid water crashed in on itself in the pouring rain. Heather watched, soaked and chilled to the bone, from her precarious perch on a railing on the Brooklyn Bridge. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the jump, tensed her legs, and-

"Hey!"

The shout surprised her so much she almost fell off the slippery railing. Quickly she shot out a hand to steady herself. Then she wondered why she had done that. What difference did it make whether she fell or jumped? Either way her miserable existence would be over. Unable to answer the question - or, maybe, a voice deep down inside of her said, you just don't want to, because you already know the answer - she turned her head to see the caller. Her eyes locked on Kal.

Heather knew nothing about the boy newsie. Sure, she saw him around sometimes, selling papes, or hanging around the lodging house, but she had never talked to him before. After all, there were tons of newsies in Brooklyn.

And not one of them gave a care about her. Which was why she was trying to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge in to the frigid waters of the East River in the first place. She brought her attentions back to the situation at hand.

"Heather, isn't it?" asked Kal, taking a step closer. He was obviously going for the "stall her until you can get her down" approach. Typical. How should she react? Truth be told, glancing back down at the water, Heather didn't really want to jump. But how could she go back on her decision now? Maybe she should just wait and see what Kal would do. But then what would people say, if she let herself be saved like that? _People won't say anything, _Heather told herself. _They don't care about you anyway._

Her mind was made up. "Go away," she said gruffly, turning back to the water. Kal started moving towards her. "I said go away!"

He stopped, and put his hands up in the air. "Fine. Just wanted to tell you, though, that I've heard drowning is the worst way to go. So you can't say I didn't warn you."

Heather glanced nervously at him, and then at the water below, and then back at him. Kal could practically hear the cogs turning furiously in her head over the ferocious howl of the wind. _Great, _he thought. _If I can just get her to come down and back to the lodging house with me, Spot'll move me up for sure._

He saw the indesicion written on her face. _Just a little bit more..._ "You look frozen. Tell you what, why don't you come back to the lodging house with me, and we can get you a warm blanket and some nice hot chocolate?" _Careful, careful, don't go too far..._

Heather didn't respond. Tentatively Kal stepped forward, and was relieved when she didn't yell at him. He neared the railing, and held out a hand. She put out a fragile hand to grab his...

Unfortunatly, that hand had been the one she had been holding on to the railing with. Equally unfortunatly, the wind chose that moment to blow a particularly strong gust at Heather. With a scream, she slipped and tumbled over the side.

Kal's eyes widened, but then he relaxed. This always happened. She would be hanging on to a convenient bar randomly left under the bridge. All he had to do was pull her up again. The same thing happened to Fire and Susan a few months ago, and Bilk and Lilac a few weeks before that, and George and Kate before that. Confidently he strode over to the railing.

And then he heard the splash.

Kal ran over to the side of the bridge, calling out Heather's name. Down below he saw her treading water. She lashed out and started swimming for shore. Kal breathed a sigh of relief. He could reach her at the shore, bring her back, and he'd still get honored.

A boat horn. A scream. Silence.

No one ever did figure out what a boat was doing on the East River in the middle of a storm.

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**The story behind the story: Now, before you go saying that I'm such a mean, cynical person who takes pleasure from death and this story should be erased and never mentioned again, listen to this. On the bus to school one day, my sister and I were talking about all the cliches in Newsies fanfics. I came up with the idea to write some stories that started out as total cliches, and then give them a twist. We came up with several ideas, which we told to some of our other Newsies-obsessed friends, who liked them and came up with some of their own. So this will be a collection of one-shots breaking every Newsies cliches we can think of. Enjoy!**


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